


Wrong Number

by SureWhyNot9



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Awkwardness, Dick Pics, M/M, Manhandling, Misunderstandings, Multi, Secret Relationship, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Teasing, Unsolicited Dick Pics, seal play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2018-12-21 04:16:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11936118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SureWhyNot9/pseuds/SureWhyNot9
Summary: Always double check the recipient prior to the submission of illicit homemade erotica.





	1. Chapter 1

Swerve winced when the text notification appeared on his HUD. Another reprimand from Ultra Magnus. It’d only been what, three hours since the last one? He’d thought the noise code violation notice would be the end of it. He’d already cleared out the bar for the night. Sure, Jackpot was fendered when he left, but Mainframe promised to get him home safely and there hadn’t been anyone else overcharged enough to get into trouble on their way back to their habsuite. No kind of trouble that could be traced back to _him_ anyway. But there it was, sitting innocuously in his inbox. Waiting. _Looming._ Swerve finished wiping down the counters and retracting all the bar seating before he couldn’t reasonably put off reading the message any longer. He reluctantly opened it.

Swerve’s fans screeched. The image that loaded was of Minimus Ambus. Specifically the _irreducible_ Minimus, leaning back against the side of what appeared to be a berth with his legs spread. His spike was pressurized, framed nicely by one of his hands and shiny with lubricant. His thighs were slick, his clean white plating pearlescent in the light and reflecting the glow of the biolights from his valve. His other hand wasn’t visible, presumably because it was holding the datapad or whatever else Minimus had used to take this picture. The angle meant Minimus’ whole frame wasn’t visible, but just below where the framing cut off the rest of his face Swerve could see that he was biting his lower lip. It was coy. It was flirty. It was _gorgeous_.

Swerve’s array pinged him with a ready notice. “Oh.” There was already static in his voice and lubricant pooling behind his valve panel. “Ohhhhh Primus.” He quickly checked the message again, searching it for a telling subject line or some sort of caption. _Anything_ to tell him what this _meant_.

He checked the whole comm over twice. There was nothing. No text at all. No note buried in the image’s metadata… _nothing_. That didn’t make sense, did it? Unless Minimus was hoping this was a ‘picture worth a thousand words’ situation. Which, _yes_ , this picture was worth about a million words, but that didn’t mean an explanation wouldn’t have been appreciated.

Maybe that was the point? It was a picture—it was a _spike pic_ , and that could be taken a lot of ways—but it wasn’t like _Ultra Magnus_ could out and ask Swerve if he wanted to frag, right? That had to be against some kind of regulation. But _Minimus Ambus_ was like… casual Magnus. Sort of. As casual as a mech like Minimus was capable of being, anyway. He wasn’t the one who handed out reprimands and hauled people to the brig. He sat at the bar and wrote poetry and chatted with Ten—which was cute and honestly really nice, even though Swerve wished they wouldn’t do it while Ten was working—and listened to the music Swerve suggested to him and sang to himself when he thought no one else could hear. So yes, if any version of the matryoshka doll that was Ultra Magnus was going to send anyone else dirty pictures, it made sense that it’d be Minimus.

Swerve looked at the picture again. It was downright artful. Swerve zoomed in on the image, excitement making his tank squirm. Minimus’ coloring was _beautiful_. Sleek and classy and—oh Primus, he was sealed. Swerve hadn’t noticed at first because he was distracted by _everything else_ , but there was the semi-translucent barrier peeking out from beyond the entrance of Minimus’ valve.

Swerve shoved his fingers into his mouth and bit down, trying to distract himself from the rush of charge that flooded his frame. Oh man. Oh fuck. That was _way too hot_. He needed to respond to this somehow, but what to do? He couldn’t just send back ‘hey bro, nice spike’, that would be weird. ‘Do you want some help with that’ was too forward, and ‘you’re beautiful and I want to put my mouth on every inch of your frame’ was too… honest. He needed to process this. He needed to strategize. He needed to get back to his room ASAP so he could self service and clear enough charge to think straight. Swerve sent a quick prayer to Primus that this wasn’t a time-limited offer he was misinterpreting and headed for the door.

* * *

 Charge crackled through Swerve’s substructure, and he’d barely scrambled onto the berth before his panels were open and lubricant was streaking down his legs. He fumbled for a spare datapad and unspooled his hardline cable to plug into it. He had the image file in his messages, but he wanted to have a copy of it on a screen he could look at outside of his HUD. That way if he got distracted—like he sincerely hoped he would—he wouldn’t accidentally close it.

Once the image was pulled up on the screen he unplugged from it and propped the datapad up on the end of his berth. For once he was glad to have his habsuite to himself. He didn’t have to worry about anyone walking in on him jerking off over a picture of one of his commanding officers.

And _oh_ it was gorgeous. It was even more enticing on a larger screen. The coy lip-biting and the sheen of lubricant on Minimus’ thighs were two of the most beautiful things Swerve had ever seen.

Swerve knelt in front of the datapad, his valve dripping onto the berth. He retracted his spike panel, and the rush of relief from being allowed to pressurize was amazing. He shuddered and reached down, rubbing the outside of his valve with his fingertips. It was a spike pic, beautifully framed, and that implied that Minimus wanted somewhere to _put_ that spike, right? Swerve had somewhere he could put it. He had a couple places Minimus could stick his spike if he wanted to, but right now his valve ached with the promise of attention and no followthrough. He slid two fingers into his valve, enough to stretch the entrance a little and give his calipers something substantial to bear down on.

“Oh, frag…” Minimus had a very handsome spike. It wasn’t huge, but it had interesting detailing and the patterns suggested it had a nice texture to it. Perfect for someone in Swerve’s size class. Perfect for Swerve specifically, if he was judging its dimensions correctly. No five hours of foreplay trying to get ready to take a monster he wasn’t really specced for, just some kissing and some light touching and Minimus could bend Swerve over any available surface and have his way with him. Heck, he could send Swerve a picture like this one a few minutes ahead of time and he’d be ready to go with zero physical preparation. It was just—it was so _intense_ to be singled out for something this intimate.

Swerve pumped his fingers into his valve, imagining Minimus’ spike in their place. Would he be shy about it like the picture suggested? Would Swerve need to encourage him? Or would it be enough to get down on his knees and beg to be filled? Swerve imagined Minimus’ hands on his hips, guiding his movements, holding him still while Minimus took what he needed from him. It didn’t feel quite right to imagine Minimus as a selfish lover, but Swerve had seen the strength hidden in that slender frame and the thought of being manhandled by someone even smaller than he was had him venting steam. Maybe if he begged enough Minimus would pin him down and _take_ him.

He fumbled for the datapad with one slippery hand and pulled it under his frame so he could brace himself on one elbow and still see the picture. He rocked back into his fingers, his legs trembling. “Ah! Oh frag, _Minimus_ …”

That wasn’t even getting into the fact that Minimus was apparently _sealed_. There was so much temptation to imagine breaking that seal, sinking into that hot, wet valve, feeling untouched nodes light up for the first time, feeling Minimus’ calipers fluttering as they were pressed open and adjusted to the first spike they’d ever encountered, getting to be that first experience, getting to make something _good_ for him–!

Swerve overloaded with a shout, three fingers crammed as far into his valve as he could get them. He slumped forward, his helm hitting the berth with a _thunk_. His fans were running on high, hot air blasting out of his front vents and buffeting him in the face.

He laughed. This was ridiculous. It was one picture, not a relationship. There was no way Minimus would let him— _him_ of all people—break his seal. Unless…

Swerve sat up. He winced and wiped a haphazard splatter of transfluid off the datapad. It was hard to imagine Minimus agreeing to date him, but clearly he had _some_ interest in Swerve. Maybe Swerve should take the initiative here and make an attempt at romancing Minimus properly. If nothing else, he’d appreciate the effort, wouldn’t he? Plus there was no reason Minimus couldn’t turn him down for the romance angle and still bend him over the bar or a berth if he wanted to. But if he _did_ give Swerve a chance… Swerve’s spark went all hot and fluttery just thinking about it.

He needed a plan. He needed a _good_ plan. Minimus deserved to be romanced properly, not just hit up for a booty call or asked to go to an event like movie night he was probably already going to. Swerve had to do this right. …He needed advice.

[[Hey Rewind, can I get your take on something?]] He pulled out a clean cloth from the bar that he’d stuffed into subspace at some point and wiped down his berth and the datapad while he waited for a response.

[[Swerve, it’s the middle of the night shift, shouldn’t you be recharging?]]

Oh. Right. [[Maybe. In that case, shouldn’t you be recharging too?]]

[[I’m busy testing Domey’s self control. What did you need?]]

If he wanted Rewind’s full attention, now wasn’t the time to ask. [[It’s not time sensitive, I just need a little advice. Can you meet me at the bar for morning rations to talk?]]

[[Sure! Is something wrong?]]

[[Nope. Nothing wrong, I promise. I just need a little romantic help and thought I’d ask the expert.]]

[[Ooh… _romance,_ huh?]] Judging by his tone, Rewind’s interest was officially piqued. [[I’ll be there! I expect all the dirty details.]]

[[You can have a select few of the dirty details, with more to be revealed if you can actually help me. See you tomorrow!]]

[[Ttyl!]]


	2. Chapter 2

“Rewind how do you romance someone but in like—a _sexy_ way?”

Rewind laughed. He was perched at the bar next to Swerve, sipping his ration through a curly straw Swerve had provided as a sort-of-bribe.

“I mean—how do I set up the vibe of ‘I wanna hold hands and lavish you with attention but also you could put your spike in my mouth and I’d be happy forever’?”

Rewind shook his helm and set his energon down. “You know, I could give more personalized advice if I knew who you were talking about.”

Swerve rubbed his cheeks, trying to hide how pink they were turning. “I haven’t actually followed up yet, I don’t know if he’s interested in me _like that_ or if he’s just trying to get me to pop my panels for him—which I would _totally_ do either way—but he’s the kinda guy who… I dunno. He deserves to be romanced. I want him to know I can do that. That I’m taking him seriously.”

“Come on, who?”

Swerve looked around as if someone could be eavesdropping in the totally empty bar. He leaned in close, dropping his voice to a whisper. “You can’t tell anyone.”

Rewind’s visor sparkled. “Oh, my lips are totally sealed.”

Swerve rolled his optics. “Says the mech without any lips.” He bit down hard on his knuckle for a few seconds. Finally he pulled Rewind in close so he could whisper right into his audial. “It’s Minimus.”

Rewind gasped. “Whoa, _Minimus_ is trying to get you to pop your panels?? I thought he was still sealed!”

Swerve covered his visor and shushed Rewind frantically. Minimus _was_ sealed, but Rewind didn’t need to know that he knew that. Or _how_ he knew that. “He sent me a comm that suggested he was… interested. It’s totally cool if he’s not _actually_ trying to get under my plating, that’s why I’m trying to get this whole romance thing sorted out.”

“Well, he _is_ my brother in law.” Rewind pondered for a moment while Swerve gnawed on his knuckles. “Try some mood music. Crooners. Maybe pour him some of whatever weak excuse for engex he's worked up to these days, make sure everything is squeaky clean. I don’t see why you’d _want_ him, but have fun.”

“Of course you don’t see it, he’s your brother in law.” Swerve rubbed his face again, fidgeting with his untouched ration with his free hand. “I spent the last twelve hours off and on browsing the data net looking at date ideas.”

Rewind burst out laughing.

“I’m desperate, okay? And all the ideas were like—go for a walk! Cook for each other! Be spontaneous! I want to show him I’m interested, not give him spark failure. The only romantic date idea I found there that we could maybe actually _do_ without leaving the ship or making a big mess—while still having a chance to talk to each other—was stargazing, and it’s not like I kick everyone else out of any of the observation decks to get some privacy, and doing it anywhere else is—” he dropped his voice to a deadpan tone. “‘Wow, a date to look out a widow, this definitely isn’t something I could do at literally any time’.” Rewind snorted. “Honestly just setting up the bar as the romance spot is the best idea. So. Thank you.”

“Good luck. I wouldn’t worry about it too much though, if he’s really into you there shouldn’t be a problem. He’s not going to lead you on or anything on purpose, he’s too _proper_ for that.”

Swerve gave Rewind a smile that he hoped didn’t show how nervous he was. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

* * *

Swerve’s comm was frustratingly vague. Succinct and to the point, which was appreciated, but at the expense of any sort of elaboration or explanation. [[Could you please meet me at the bar after closing, once your shift is over? I want to talk to you.]] Certainly, Magnus would do so—it was a polite and reasonable request, and he responded with an affirmative after checking to make sure his schedule was clear—but why? Most communications with Swerve filled Ultra Magnus’ entire HUD with text that had to be read carefully to parse exactly what he was trying to ask or say. Now, left with nothing but the barest endoskeleton if a conversation, Magnus found himself… concerned.

An emergency? There was no flagging to the message to indicate that it was urgent, and it lacked the usual barrage of exclamation points Swerve used when something had him up in arms. There was a set time for the meeting as well, instead of a panicked but unspecified ‘now please’ or ‘ASAP’ or ‘right now immediately this is a bigger deal than I first thought please hurry’, all of which Magnus had received from Swerve at some point over the course of the quest. Magnus hesitated to consider that it might be a _true_ emergency of the type that landed Swerve in the medbay so recently. He hoped it was simply an issue with the bar that he wanted to discuss with someone who could be relied upon to follow through.

Still, the fact that he didn’t _know_ gnawed at his processor all through his shift. Surely there was something. It could very easily be nothing that he was yet aware of and all his worry was for naught, but he felt that _surely_ it must be _something._

Once his shift was over he headed to his quarters. He had fifteen minutes until the time he and Swerve agreed to meet, long enough for him to review his archived messages. He didn’t keep every personal comm immediately accessible in the Magnus armor, and it would ease his mind to be up to date on their recent communications. To be certain there was nothing he’d missed.

Public intoxication notice from Magnus—short acknowledgment from Swerve.

Public indecency violation notice from Magnus—acknowledgment and rebuttal that the indecency wasn’t his fault as long as he tried to dissuade them—reluctant agreement—thanks.

Request for help breaking up a bar fight from Swerve—acknowledgement from Magnus.

Noise code violation notice from Magnus—acceptable response and apology—image file—and then Swerve’s most recent comm, the request for a meeting.

Wait.

He’d missed the image file. Magnus frowned and went to download the attachment. Swerve sent him a picture that he now wanted to discuss, _there_ was the context Magnus had been missing. He felt his jaw unclench, a weight lifting from his shoulders. He hadn’t seen it because it was attached to a separate message. Maybe it was visual documentation of some particularly bad damage that Swerve wanted to follow up—

Oh.

The image came into focus, but even before it resolved he recognized the colors. White and green on a grey background. The rough outline of a reclining frame.

 _Oh no_.

His face burned. He hadn’t—he couldn’t _possibly_ have made such a glaring mistake—and yet there was the proof. The marked date of receipt was almost a full week prior, and in direct response there was Swerve’s comm. ‘I want to talk to you’ seemed much less banal now. Of course Swerve wanted to speak with him about this. It was horrifically unprofessional behavior. Magnus would have to count himself lucky that Swerve asked to talk to him privately instead of bringing the picture to the attention of either of the captains. It didn’t bear thinking about what might have happened if he’d taken the matter to _Megatron_ , and imagining him bringing it up to Rodimus was somehow almost worse.

Worse still was the almost curt nature of Swerve’s message. It didn’t seem hurried or professional now, in contract with his usual verbosity it came across as irritated. Angry? Upset? Moreover, Swerve had waited a _week_ before contacting him about it. He would undoubtedly have _many_ words to share with Magnus on this subject when he arrived for their scheduled meeting.

The idea of being—rightfully—reprimanded by a subordinate while wearing the Magnus armor was vaguely horrifying. He had already disgraced his station once. After brief seconds of uncertainty, he began the process of divesting himself of the armor as quickly as possible. It was a personal failing he was owning up to, was it not? Surely arriving as Minimus Ambus instead of Ultra Magnus wouldn’t be taken as an insult.

Once the Magnus armor was stacked in the corner of his quarters he hurried for the door. He would ordinarily reassemble the armor to the best of his ability while he was not occupying it, thereby keeping the interior free from dust, but he had very little time until he was expected at the bar and he had an _extremely_ important stop to make first. He hoped his quick pace wouldn’t draw too much attention, but the bar was on the upper levels of the ship, and his intermediate destination was in the opposite direction.

His fans were running on low to dispel heat by the time he got there, and his gait was more akin to a run than a brisk walk. He stopped in front of the door and—not bothering to compose himself first—quickly rapped on the door. His spark felt like it was making its way up his intake and his fuel tank bubbled uncomfortably. He struggled to regulate his venting. Panicking would not help the situation. Surely if he could explain himself, he would be forgiven.

The door to the habsuite in front of him slid open. Whirl peered out into the hallway. He glanced down at Minimus and reset his optic.

Minimus’ vents caught and words tumbled from his vocoder before he could stop them. “Whirl, I—I have made a grievous error.”

* * *

Whirl, it turned out, was no help at all. He’d ushered Minimus into his habsuite and locked the door behind him with enough urgency, but once Minimus explained the situation to him, well…

He’d collapsed onto the floor in a fit of laughter and had yet to get up.

“Whirl, this is a very serious matter! If he takes this to Megatron, or to _Rodimus_ —” Whirl’s laughter redoubled. Minimus stomped his foot on the ground, then crossed his arms and turned away, blushing. He was not acting with the decorum required by his professional position. But Whirl was simply not treating this situation with the gravity it deserved!

“I’m sorry!” Whirl was still giggling. He struggled upright. He was visibly tearing up from laughing so hard. Minimus looked away sharply, humiliation boiling in his tanks. “Aw… I’m sorry, Minimus.” Whirl approached him and laid his helm on Minimus’ shoulder. He curled his claws around Minimus’ waist and nuzzled his cheek. “I’m sorry, sugar, I’m not laughin’ at _you_.”

“Yes, you are.” He loathed how petulant he sounded. “I wish you would treat this with proper weight.”

“I know it _seems_ like a big deal, but I promise it ain’t the end’a the world.” He moved one claw to Minimus’ shoulder and began gently massaging the tight wiring there. “It ain’t like ya sent it to Megatron or Rodimus yerself. S’jus’ Swerve! He’ll keep it a secret if ya ask him to.”

Minimus resisted for a few moments before allowing himself to relax slightly into Whirl’s claws. “That image was meant for you alone.”

“I know, Mims. I’m sure it was beautiful. Ya take such good pictures.” Whirl purred against his audial. Minimus felt heat rising in his face. “It was just a little tease, yeah? Tell him ya meant it for someone else. Hell, ya can tell him ya meant ta delete it an’ hit the wrong button, scrap like that happens sometimes.”

“But—” the protest fizzled on his glossa, snuffed by reluctance. He floundered for a way to better voice his feelings on the matter, and wound up with a pitiful lament of “but it was _Swerve_.”

Whirl rubbed soothing circles onto his back with the blunt side of one claw. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he ain’t gonna be mad atcha. Worst case, he wants ya ta know ya sent the pic to the wrong number so ya don’t do it again, an’ if that’s what it is all ya gotta do is promise it was a one time deal an’ come back here ta me an’ I’ll remind ya just how wanted ya are.”

Minimus sighed and leaned against Whirl’s cockpit. “...I would appreciate that.”

“ _But…_ ” Whirl trailed off, dragging a clawtip up the center of Minimus’ back.

“…But?” Minimus repeated warily.

“But he might be callin’ ya over for some _other_ reason.” Whirl dipped a claw into one of Minimus’ hip seams, sending a bolt of charge through his frame. Minimus bit his lip hard but couldn’t quite muffle a startled squeak. “Yer a lotta mechs’ fantasy, Minimus. An’ if he saw ya showin’ off yer seal for me… Well, who’s gonna be able ta resist a sight like that?”

Minimus shivered. “It—it is inappropriate to—”

“Ta what, think about Swerve bendin’ ya over the counter at his bar?” Minimus’ internal temperature spiked dramatically. “Gettin’ that glossa of his on yer seal? Maybe sit ya up on a stool an’ letcha frag his mouth. _I_ can’t suck yer spike, but he can.”

“Whirl—”

“S’okay, I like thinkin’ about the kinda stuff he could do for ya.” Whirl’s engine rumbled, vibrating Minimus’ entire frame. “You could really go at it, ya know? Hold his helm down ‘til yer satisfied.”

Minimus gasped. He pressed into Whirl’s claws. “ _Whirl_ —” A notice popped onto his HUD. He was late for his meeting with Swerve. He needed to be there _now_. “I’m late.” He pulled away from Whirl quickly, the panic and nerves that had subsided due to his teasing resurging with a vengeance. “I’m _late_ , he is expecting me at this very moment—”

Whirl stifled a giggle. Minimus fixed him with a withering glare and he held up his claws in surrender. “Sorry! Go on, don’t let me keep ya. Unless ya want a lift there?”

“ _No,_ Whirl.” He took several stiff strides toward the door before turning on his heel. “But thank you for the offer. I will see you later this evening.”

“Good luck!” Whirl trilled after him, waving him off with a much too cheerful smile.

Minimus couldn’t waste time walking at a reasonable pace at this point. He was late. Late! Him! If Swerve was already angry at him, tardiness would only compound the issue. If he thought Minimus wasn’t going to arrive at all, there was no telling what he might do, and yet Minimus couldn’t bring himself to send a simple ‘running late, will arrive shortly’ comm.

The lights were low when Minimus entered the bar, nerves making his spark pulse hard in his chest. They were bright enough not to be a safety hazard, but not up as high as they usually were. It was a clear sign that the bar was not open for general business. Most of the light was coming from the backlit engex tanks, casting the bar in a multicolored glow.

Soft music greeted Minimus as he stepped inside. The kernel of shame that had been growing steadily during his hurried trek here from Whirl’s habsuite popped when he saw Swerve behind the bar. What had he been thinking, coming here in person instead of trying to explain himself over comms first? Nothing good could come of this confrontation, despite what Whirl said.

Swerve looked up and waved to him. “Come in! Close the door?”

Minimus touched the lock pad next to the entrance with a shaking hand, and the door slid shut.


	3. Chapter 3

Swerve didn’t close the bar early, but he didn’t close up a second late either. No lingering over empty glasses, no indulging the usual ‘one more round’ begging. He was a mech on a mission. He shooed everyone out and sent Ten home for the night and set about frantically cleaning the space. Everything had to be _spotless_. Not that he didn’t keep his bar clean on a regular basis! It just seemed that there was always _something_ out of place when Ultra Magnus came to check on things, or when Minimus came by to visit with Ten. A spill Swerve didn’t catch before he walked in, or clutter that he overlooked because he was used to it. Not this time though. Tonight, he made sure every inch of the bar was scrubbed clean, _perfect_ , so there wouldn’t be anything to distract either of them or make Ultra Magnus uncomfortable.

Next was the lighting. He needed to get it dim without making it _dark_. He still needed to comply with the safety standards Ultra Magnus had given him when he made the bar an officially official establishment on the Lost Light. It took some figuring and a lot of running around testing the luminosity in various places around the room, but Swerve got it down to the most romantic-type lighting he could without sacrificing the safety score. The lights that illuminated the energon stills behind the bar provided most of the mood, and a few wall lights along each side of the room kept it bright enough to see.

The music, at least, was easy. He knew what music Ultra Magnus liked. It was probably a little weird that he knew that, but he did and for once knowing something he shouldn’t was going to work out in his favor, because he had several hours of soft, mellow music at his disposal that could either be enjoyed or ignored in favor of… other activities.

He felt like he was running out of time as he scrambled to get the last few things set up, but every glance at the door showed that it was still firmly closed. It was when he was behind the bar retrieving the glasses and drink he’d prepared for the night that he finally heard the door swish open and bright light from the hallway streamed into the bar. Swerve looked up and there he was, backlit in the doorway of the bar. Not Ultra Magnus, but Minimus Ambus. He’d come without the armor.

Swerve’s spark fluttered. He waved to Minimus and gave him a big smile. “Come in! Close the door?” His hands were the only part of him that felt steady, and he still almost fumbled the bottle he was trying to pour. It was a light energon spritzer, mixed to Minimus’ specific taste. He hoped Minimus hadn’t been humoring him when he said he enjoyed it during his last visit. He managed to get one of the glasses safely poured while Minimus walked over.

Minimus approached the bar and took a seat directly across from Swerve. He smelled of lingering charge and Swerve almost dropped the bottle he was holding entirely. This was happening. This was really happening and Swerve was so excited and so nervous he felt like his wiring was about to spark up and start a fire somewhere near his fuel pump.

He got his hand on the empty glass and started to pour the second drink. “So, do you know why I asked you here tonight?”

Minimus’ voice was a sullen, embarrassed mumble, not at all what Swerve was expecting. “Because I accidentally sent you an inappropriate picture?”

Swerve froze. The nervous excitement building in his frame left in an instant and cold shame gripped him instead. “Accidentally?” he repeated, the word barely making it out of his vocoder. He stopped pouring the engex and shoved the stopper back into the bottle, stashing it under the counter in the same movement. He grabbed a dish tub and swept both glasses into it without looking, splashing liquid over his arm in the process and it was too loud, too obvious, but the panic that tightened its hold on his spark said he needed to backpedal _fast_. “Accidentally! Right!” He reset his vocoder four times in rapid succession, trying to drag his voice down from the awful squawk it wanted to reach. He needed to fix this. He pulled a towel out of subspace and quickly wiped off his arm. “So, what was up with that?”

Minimus looked startled. He was frowning at Swerve, but—but that was _fine_ , that was okay. It was when his gaze started to drift to their surroundings that Swerve’s panic intensified.

“It seemed a little out of character so I totally get that it was an accident but I was kinda wondering how you ended up sending that to _me_ of all people.” He turned the towel over and set to wiping down the counter between them. It was already spotless, but he needed to do _something_. He needed to distract Minimus from the atmosphere he’d created.

“Swerve…” Minimus spoke slowly, still looking around the room. His gaze had fallen on the controls for the audio system in the corner, which meant he’d noticed the fragging _mood music_ — “is this meant to be a date?”

Swerve felt his spark trying to burrow into his fuel tank. “What? No! Of course not! That’d be—that’d be ridiculous!”

“Swerve—”

“That makes no sense at all why would I—why would _we_ —” he reset his vocoder again, trying to wrestle his voice back under control. “I just wanted to know how the mixup happened and say there’s no hard feelings, really, it’s no big deal! Already forgotten, I swear.” Oh frag, was he crying? He might be crying, but he couldn’t touch his face to check without drawing even more attention to the possibility and he shouldn’t be crying, this was fine, this was _fine_ —

“I came here to apologize for my indiscretion,” Minimus said softly, “but just because it was unintentional doesn’t mean I am… uninterested.”

Swerve choked slightly. “I—what?”

Minimus clasped his hands together tightly on top of the counter. “The image I sent to you was not meant for public consumption. I was simply attempting to cultivate a measure of—of _appreciation_ for my irreducible form. I have always been keenly aware of its deficiencies.”

Swerve twisted the towel between his hands. “But you’re gorgeous.”

“What? No.” Minimus had a look of utter confusion on his face. “No, I’m. What?”

“You are! You’re _beautiful_. You’re so slender and strong and your colors compliment your frame so _well_ —” Swerve felt heat color his face as he realized he was gushing and looked down at the cloth he was tangling around his fingers. “You’re pretty much the ideal. For me, anyway.” It was easier to keep talking when he wasn’t looking at Minimus directly. “Your insignia is dashing and your hands are so delicate but I’m p sure you could tear my arms off if you wanted.”

“Why would I do that?” He sounded baffled.

“I don’t know. Because I went and tried to make a date out of nothing?”

“I would not—that is very violent. I wouldn’t—I would _not_.” Swerve peeked up at him. He still looked blindsided. “And I have already said that I am not uninterested.”

“‘Not uninterested’ isn’t the same as ‘interested’. I just—” he lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “I think you’re awesome. I was hoping to maybe turn this romantic.”

“I—despite the appearances in the image I sent you, I am not naturally sealed.” Minimus wasn’t quite making optic contact with Swerve. He was _blushing_. “So if your interest lies in—if your interest lies—”

“It doesn’t! I’m not—I mean, hardly anyone is these days. Naturally sealed, I mean. And I wouldn’t care if you were sealed or not.” He bit his lip for just a second before blurting out “I’d like to romance you. I think you deserve to be romanced.” He felt his spark squeeze tight. “Not that I wouldn’t be perfectly happy to have you rail me! I just—I’d like to try to romance you. If that’s okay.”

Minimus’ expression was inscrutable, but the pink tint hadn’t left his face. “Perhaps… both?”

Swerve felt like he was going to explode. Charge and anticipation and excitement that had been held at bay by fear burst across his sensor net and through his frame. “Yes! Yes, I—I can do both!”

Minimus straighten up on his seat, resolve entering his posture. “Then I am of the opinion that we should proceed with the evening as though this terrible awkwardness had not occurred.”

“Oh thank Primus.” Swerve reached under the bar and pulled out a new glass. “Drink? It’s the energon spritzer you said you liked last week.”

“Yes, please.” He accepted the drink when Swerve handed it to him. Swerve could feel the relief in his field where their hands almost touched. “I appreciate the effort you’ve put into this. It shows an unexpected level of forethought.”

“Thanks! I wanted it to be nice.” He poured a little of the drink for himself as well. He sort of wished he could justify making something stronger for himself, but he didn’t want to risk being overcharged on top of his already frayed nerves. “Do you want to sit in one of the booths? I think it’d be more comfortable. I mean, my feet don’t reach the floor when I sit on the bar stools and yours barely do.”

“Certainly.” Minimus picked up his glass and gestured to the seating along the side of the room. “Lead the way.”

* * *

Minimus allowed Swerve to decide on their seating. He waited for him to duck out from behind the bar proper and followed him over to one of the booths. He watched Swerve hesitate between two of the bench seats and could almost feel how hard he was thinking about which to choose. It was nearly a relief to see how nervous his newfound suitor was.

He hadn’t expected Swerve to return his interest. He’d seen no signs of overt affection or attraction, and Swerve had not previously expressed the wish to court him in a verbal manner. Perhaps that was to be expected, though. He’d not voiced his feelings either. There were few mechs as straightforward as Whirl when it came to self expression.

Speaking of his courtmate, he should apprise Whirl of the changed situation. [[My dear, I believe I will not be available to join you tonight.]]

[[Oho! Are you gonna be busy? >o) ]]

[[Yes, it appears that I will be. I apologize for assuming you would not mind. Given our conversation immediately prior to this meeting, I concluded that you would support this course of action.]]

[[Hell yeah I do! Blow his bolts off, sweetspark.]]

Swerve slid into a booth and looked over at Minimus expectantly. [[I will endeavor to do so.]] Minimus walked over to the table and slid into the booth next to Swerve, so they might be closer. [[Take care, Whirl.]]

He could clearly imagine Whirl's sing-song tone as he signed off the comm. [[Have fun!]]

Swerve had scooted over until he was nearly flush with the wall and was fiddling with his drink. “So… I um.” He laughed, a bubbling sound that reached his field in waves. “I don’t think I actually believed I’d get this far, I’m not sure what to do next. I’ve never romanced someone before, not really.” He shot Minimus a sheepish smile.

“It’s alright. Though I have been courted in a traditional manner before, I found the process was not conducive to finding a life partner. That said, the written structures for courting were not meant for the cultivation of lasting personal relationships with the end goal of _love_ in mind, but rather the forging of alliances between groups of individuals who could not broker lasting agreements of trust in any other way.”

Swerve looked a bit put out. “Wow. That’s not romantic at all.”

“No, it is not.” Taking part in courtships dictated by the House of Ambus had been exhausting, and none of the potential matches his sponsors found for him had considered him worthy of individual thought. “I much prefer the romanticized versions of traditional courtship that have arisen over the years. I find personalized efforts… pleasing.”

“Like this?” The hopeful cant to Swerve’s question was charming.

Minimus felt the beginnings of a smile attempting to form on his features. “Yes. As I said, your forethought was unexpected. But it is also appreciated.”

Swerve faceplates tinted slightly pink and he beamed. Minimus enjoyed the ease with which he smiled. He scooted an inch or two closer, so he wasn't crush quite so far into the corner. “I uh—frag, this is probably gonna ruin the mood, isn’t it.”

“I encourage you to voice any comments or concerns you may have. An open dialogue is key to maintaining any relationship, romantic or otherwise.”

“Right, good, okay.” His blush visibly deepened in color. “I know the picture you sent wasn’t meant for me, but I was wondering if that’s something you do often or if it was a one time thing or what.”

“Ah.” Yes. He did need to take his own advice, didn’t he. Minimus felt heat rising in his own face and a flutter of shame that he’d hoped this wouldn’t come up so quickly. “Yes. I do take intimate pictures of myself on occasion. Primarily when I have recently reapplied my valve seal. While I have amassed something of a collection of them, they are not meant only for my own pleasure. I—” he cursed his hesitation and forced the words out quickly. “I am in an intimate, romantic relationship with another mech aboard this ship. I send personalized pornographic images to him when I wish for him to join me in intimate congress and break my seal once again.” Oh. Oh dear that was more information than he’d meant to give. He quickly lifted the drink Swerve had provided to his lips, too embarrassed to make optical contact.

When he pulled himself together enough to glance over, Swerve looked… stunned. He was also blushing rather more than before. “Oh. O-okay. Does that mean—”

“My seal is currently intact because I received no reply from my paramour and assumed he was not interested at the moment.” The unnecessary interruption made Minimus’s face burn. “I apologize. That was not necessary information. If your question was whether I am interested in you as well, I can assure you that I am, and that my courtmate is both aware of my interest and encouraging of my pursuit of you as a second partner. If—if you are still interested, with this new information at your disposal—”

“I am! I totally am, having two boyfriends is great! I mean—fine! Totally fine with me.” Swerve floundered momentarily. “Uh… who? Is it?”

“I—Ultra Magnus is not a figure of romance, and for that reason we have had to keep our relationship a secret.” That did not answer Swerve’s question. Minimus scooted a bit closer to him and set down his glass. He placed a hand on Swerve's knee and hoped desperately that his attempt at distraction wasn’t too transparent. “It is for my own benefit that it remains so, and I can only offer you my sincerest promises that he approves of you having your way with me.”

The temperature of the plating under his hand rose dramatically. Swerve sputtered, only static coming from his vocoder. “I—um—”

“You expressed interest in me, and I quote, ‘railing you’. Would you still be amenable to such an activity?” He asked, his touch sliding higher on Swerve’s leg.

“Yes.” Swerve’s voice crackled with static. His hands hovered over Minimus’ plating as he visibly restrained himself from touching. “I—if you can’t tell me who the other guy is, can I ask about—” the words caught on a stifled moan as Minimus’ fingers found a thin seam along Swerve’s inner thigh. He continued faintly, “I’ve only got one deal breaker, I promise.”

“A ‘deal breaker’?” He hoped it wasn’t Whirl, that would lead to all sorts of unfortunate discomfort.

“Y-yeah.” Swerves vocoder audibly reset. “You’re not seeing either of the captains, are you?”

“Either of the—” oh. Well, that was an unexpected concern. Although perhaps not _so_ unexpected, given that at present one of their captains was Megatron. “No, I am not.”

Swerve relaxed, some of the slowly gathering nervous tension leaving his field. “Okay, then I’m good.”

Relief washed through Minimus, and charge followed close on its heels. He placed his other hand on Swerve’s side, feeling the heat of the frame next to his. “Shall we continue?”

“ _Yes._ ”


	4. Chapter 4

Things were moving a lot faster than Swerve expected. He’d hoped for at most a few minutes of conversation, a shared drink or two, coming to some sort of understanding where Minimus expressed an interest in him and they maybe kissed before parting ways.

Instead, they were sitting so close together they were nearly in each other’s laps, with Minimus’ clever fingers skirting his seams, flirting with exposed wiring. Swerve felt like he was about to combust. Static clung to his frame and leaped from his plating to Minimus’ fingertips. His own hands felt awkward and clumsy. He fumbled where he touched Minimus, afraid of putting too much pressure and leaving red marks on his pristine plating. Minimus stroked his vents, catching on the slats. “That’s—” Minimus’ fingers slid into the gaps and Swerve gasped. A soft moan escaped his vocoder. “Oh man, _oh_ —” he pressed into the touch.

“What would you have me do to you?” The question was murmured, barely audible over the roar of their fans.

Swerve shuddered. “Anything. Frag— _anything_ , Minimus, _please._ ”

“I would appreciate more specificity.” He dropped both hands to Swerve’s hips and let them rest there. There was anticipation in his touch.

“F-frag me? I mean—if you want to? I hope you want to. Please frag me, Minimus.” He reset his vocoder twice, trying to clear the static. “I know this just—this _us_ just started and I’m not your main mech so you probably don’t want me breaking your new seal but I want to do something, seriously, _anything_ , I’ve self serviced twice a day for the last _week_ imagining us together in every possible combination, I’ll do anything you want—” shame sizzled through his field. He hadn’t meant to admit to that, but there it was, out in the open. “I’ll take your hands or your spike or you could use my mouth—I promise I’m really good with my mouth, I could eat you out through your seal if you wanted or I could suck you off or—” he squirmed in Minimus’ grip. “ _Please_ Minimus I’m gonna talk myself to death by embarrassment here!”

Minimus lifted him effortlessly and Swerve squeaked when he was settled onto his lap, their closed panels scraping together slightly. “Since you have repeatedly expressed an interest, I would like very much to spike you.” Swerve’s valve panel snapped open, unbidden, and he covered his visor with one hand. Abject appreciation rippled through Minimus’ field. “Oh, you are quite lovely.”

His spark fluttered. “R-really?”

“Yes. May I touch you?”

“Yeah.” Swerve peeked out from between his fingers. Minimus’ gaze was directed downward. He jolted when he felt the first touch to his valve rim. “Ah—” His fingers curled to stroke the inside of his valve rim, seeking out the raised sensory nodes. “Oh frag, Minimus…”

Minimus’ fingers teased the first ring of calipers. He hummed, his other hand moving to Swerve’s back to support him. “Yes, my dear?”

Swerve’s spark pulsed hot in his chest, emotion too intense to name flooding through him. His vents caught and glossa stuck to the roof of his mouth. His spark felt suddenly full to overflowing.

Minimus looked up and caught his optics. “Swerve?”

It was so much. Swerve felt on the verge of tears. “Y-you should give me something to do with my mouth.”

His expression softened. “What would you suggest?”

“I could kiss you, if you wanted.” Minimus seemed surprised by the offer. “Only if you wanted me to!”

“I would like that. Feel free to kiss me as much as you wish.” Swerve leaned in quickly but stopped just before he made contact, afraid of smacking their faces together. Minimus tilted his face up in encouragement. “Go on.”

Swerve closed the distance between them and kissed Minimus, gentle and sweet as he could manage. There was so much pressure to make it perfect. He wanted Minimus to like this. To like _him_. To want more kisses from him in the future. He didn’t know how good whoever Minimus’ mystery partner was at this. Swerve felt like he was pretty great at kissing, most days, but what if the mystery mech was better? What if Minimus just liked it more when he was the one doing the kissing.

At least Swerve knew it wasn’t _Rodimus_. Or _Megatron_ , honestly, but Rodimus aka Hot Rod aka his only son making out with Minimus was not something he wanted to dwell on now that he was finally getting to do something about the massive crush he hadn’t been able to shake since Hedonia. He didn’t want to think about that at all, right now. He just wanted to focus on the heat from Minimus’ frame and the strong, steady hand on his back and the fact that he was letting him— _him!_ —onto his lap for possibly-secret passionate makeouts. He shivered and tried again.

Minimus made a soft noise against his mouth. A quiet gasp, accompanied by his fingers sliding deeper into Swerve’s valve, finally giving him something solid to bear down on. He moaned, rolling his hips down to try to get them in deeper and was rewarded by Minimus moving his hand from his lower back around his sides so they were held flush, chest to chest, and he tightened his grip just slightly so it was snug and warm and—and Swerve couldn’t move. He realized with a start that Minimus was pinning him to his own frame and though his arms were free to hold and touch and roam he couldn’t move himself any lower without Minimus’ help. Minimus had taken control of his frame with a _one-armed_ _hug._ “Is this alright?” Minimus asked, his voice once again so quiet it was almost lost under the sounds of their frames.

Swerve moaned, desperate and high. His frontal vents flipped open to dump hot air over them both as his internal temperature skyrocketed, leaving them covered in condensation that quickly turned to steam.

“Swerve,” how was his voice so _even?_ “I would very much like verbal confirmation of whether or not this is an avenue you would like to pursue.”

Ohhhh frag that was hot. He was so calm and collected and that was the dryest way of asking ‘is it good for you’ _ever_ and Swerve was left babbling static he was so turned on. “I-it’s— _ah_ —s’good! Frag please—” His hands slipped and he realized he was holding onto Minimus’ pauldrons for dear life and he’d completely forgotten to keep kissing him. He pressed his lips to Minimus’ cheek and found that they were shaking. “Please— _please_ —”

“You will need to be a little more specific, my dear.”

Swerve laughed, vents choking as they tried to open wider. There it was again, his spark spinning so fast he felt like it would burst from his chest. “Are you teasing? I—uH—I didn’t think you’d tease but it’s—it—” He pressed his face to Minimus’, nuzzling him thoughtlessly before remembering that that might be _weird_ —but Minimus turned his helm to return the soft gesture.

“I would not tease you needlessly. I genuinely wish to know whether you are comfortable with this level of manual restraint, or if you would like me to release you.”

“Fuck no please I love it.” He ran shaking hands down Minimus’ back, mindful of the windshield glass under his fingers. “It’s so hot—it’s _so fucking hot_ Minimus I think I might die.”

Minimus adjusted how they were pressed together, almost like he was snuggling Swerve closer. His fingers resumed their exploration of Swerve’s valve. “I would rather avoid your premature expiration.”

Swerve shivered and pressed another kiss to Minimus’ cheek. He seemed to like that, rewarding Swerve with a third finger massaging his outer nodes while the first two kept moving inside him. He gasped,  vocoder clicking much too loudly as it automatically reset. “How’re you using such big words?”

“My partner finds it attractive.”

“He’s super right, it’s really really hot—I mean attractive—I mean—come on _words_ —I mean something other than hot because I’ve said that like five times already and it’s true but it’s really—really nice? It’s just so _you_.”

The flutter of genuine appreciation that led the surge of charge through Minimus’ field was impossible to miss with them pressed together like this. “Thank you, Swerve.”

Swerve’s spike panel snapped back and his spike pressurized into the scant space between them. Minimus adjusted their frames again so it was pressed against his abdominal playing and before Swerve could apologize he _moved_ and the words morphed into a staticky groan as they left his vocoder. “O-oh Primus I’m gonna get transfluid all over you.”

“Are you going to overload?”

“If you keep doing that I am.”

Minimus’ fingers twisted in Swerve’s valve and he nearly squeaked when they found an untouched nose cluster to bear down on. “Would you rather not?”

Swerve’s fingers skidded on Minimus’ back, no doubt leaving streaks of bright red all over his nice white plating. “Oh fuck-k-k Minimus—” Minimus’ fingers left his valve and the edge of Swerve’s rapidly approaching overload receded slightly. He whimpered, not sure whether he felt relieved or disappointed. Minimus’ other hand found his hip and he reaches up to support his back, releasing him from the comforting iron grip against his chest. Swerve’s hands slipped again—they were both shining with condensation in the low light, thought it was evaporating fast off their frames—and he felt a flare of panic when Minimus lifted him off his lap. “Nonono I can hold on, I won’t—I’m sorry—”

“It’s alright, I have you.” Minimus picked him up as if he weighed no more than a stack of datapads and got to his knees on the bench. He laid Swerve out on the table, clearly being careful not to let him fall, and even with the momentary disorientation Swerve felt safe in his hands. Then Minimus grabbed his waist again and pulled him forward so his spike panel was flush against Swerve's exposed valve. “Is this acceptable?”

Minimus’ panel was _blazing_ hot, his grip firm enough to cause dents if it hadn’t been so precise— “It’s _perfect_.” But— “I can’t kiss you from down here…”

Minimus leaned over him. He was _just_ tall enough to press a gentle kiss to his lips. He took Swerve’s hands in his, lacing their fingers together. “Is that better?”

“Y-yeah.” He gave Minimus’ hands a squeeze. It really was perfect. They were so close, and their frames were so hot they were steaming up the air around them. “It’s really good.”

Minimus pressed him down, using his frame to pin him and his strength to keep Swerve’s hands on the table. “Would you like me to spike you now?”

Swerve shivered. “Yeah— _yes_ , please.” He shifted as much as he could to rub his valve against Minimus’ panel. “I’m gonna—when I overload, keep going?”

“If that’s what you wish.”

“It is.” He squeezed Minimus’ waist with his knees. “Can I kiss you again?”

Minimus leaned in so their lips brushed. “You may.”

Swerve was almost too focused on the kiss to hear Minimus’ panel slide back, but he definitely felt it. The slide of hot metal against his outer nodes was a distraction in itself. He wasn’t expecting Minimus to pressurize directly into his valve. Swerve overloaded with a startled cry.

Minimus held him firm while his frame tried to arch off the table. Being pinned through his overload made every point of contact _sing_ , and gave his charge plenty to ground itself into, sparks leaping between them. Minimus rocked into him and Swerve felt every inch—every _micrometer_ of his spike moving despite his frantically clasping calipers. Minimus was too strong to be held by the whims of Swerve’s frame but so careful that every movement set him alight anyway, and wasn’t that a thought. Tension left Swerve’s frame but his charge barely dipped.

Minimus took advantage of his newly relaxed state, moving one hand to his hip to lift him slightly. The new angle lit up even more sensors inside his valve and sent charge crackling up his spinal chain. “Oh—oh _frag—_ ”

“Are you— _ah_ —” Minimus gave Swerve’s hips a sharp tug and ground his spike housing against Swerve’s valve entrance. “How are you faring?”

How was he still using complete sentences? Swerve only managed static the first two tries, and then “I’m good! S’good—please don’t—don’t—”

Minimus’ pace slowed slightly. “Don’t…?”

Swerve reached up and tried to grab Minimus’ arms, but he couldn’t keep his grip. He grabbed at the table instead, his fingertips catching on the edge of the metal plane. “Don’t stop!”

“Ah, good.” Minimus leaned over, kissing Swerve’s cheek. “I would not leave you wanting, my dear.”

The pet name made something bubble and burn within him. Something hot and light and overwhelmed—that’s what it was. Being so easily overpowered by someone this close to his own size was overwhelming in the best way. Not that everything else about this situation wasn’t also so intense it bordered on too much. Minimus was just so careful and handsome and refined and he was way too good for Swerve, he knew that, but it hardly mattered now when he was doing that _thing_ with his _hips_ and Swerve was going to die if he stopped and he was so _hot_ how was it legal for someone to be that attractive all at once?

“I’m glad you find the situation so agreeable”

Swerve whimpered and moved to cover his mouth but Minimus caught his hand before it got there and pinned it to the table next to his helm, leaving Swerve’s vocoder unobstructed. “Oh no I was saying all that out loud _Primus_ I’m embarrassing I’m sorry I didn’t mean to you’re just so—you’re _so_ —” Swerve broke off with a whine, words failing him now that he was aware that they were coming out of his mouth.

Minimus’ ventilations were coming hot and deep, and his fingers were beginning to leave slight divots in Swerve’s plating. Still, his voice was almost even as he murmured in Swerve’s audial. “I find your talkative nature becoming, and am flattered beyond expectation.”

Swerve laughed. That was ridiculous. This was ridiculous. Why was he so turned on by Minimus’ vocabulary?

He felt Minimus’ thrusts stutter, uneven, and with a sharp gasp Minimus overloaded. Transfluid hit Swerve’s ceiling node, charge sizzling between their frames as static grounded wherever it could and it was so much—he was so _close_ —and then Minimus caught his other hand and pinned it above his helm, their fingers laced together, grinding hard against his outer nodes, their hips angled so even when overload washed through him Swerve couldn’t move a fucking _inch_.

Minimus’ grip eased slowly as the flickers of white in Swerve’s vision faded. He reset his vocoder a couple times. “Wow. _Wow_.”

“Agreed.” It was incredibly gratifying to hear Minimus’ voice rife with static. He released Swerve’s hands and withdrew from his valve before sitting down heavily in the booth and helping Swerve slide back onto his lap. Not the best position for cooling off from an objective standpoint, but Swerve wasn’t about to object.

Their fans still roared, and over that he could hear the soft strains of mood music in the background. That was a good choice. It meant something else was filling the air other than his inane babble. But he could already feel words on the back of his glossa, itching to ruin the mood. “If your boyfriend doesn’t tell you how awesome you are he must not be paying you enough attention.”

“He does.” Minimus didn’t sound offended at least. “But I will admit that I am particularly fond of personalized compliments.”

“Oh. So… stuff about you.”

“Yes.”

Swerve gave him a smile. “Like how you’re gorgeous? And your facial insignia is dashing? And that you using big words and correct phrasing and everything while fragging is super hot?”

“Swerve, if you wished to initiate a second round of interfacing, you need only to ask.”

Swerve felt his faceplates heat. “I’m—maybe. Do you… want to?”

Minimus trailed his fingers up Swerve’s sides and no matter what he said Swerve was _sure_ he was doing it on purpose—and what kind of forbidden knowledge was that? To know that _Minimus Ambus_ was into _teasing_. “I am tempted to continue. However, if I were to have my way with you we would likely both have difficulty walking afterward, and I don’t want to leave you unable to return to your habsuite.”

“…I have a cot set up in the back room for drunk emergencies?” Swerve offered.

Minimus caught his lower lip between his dental ridges and bit down gently as he thought. It was even more adorable up close. “Would it accommodate us both?”

“If we snuggled in real close it would.”

“I would not object to post-coital closeness.” Minimus tucked his hands underneath Swerve’s thighs. “Do you have an early shift tomorrow?”

Swerve thought for a moment. He hoped not, but his shift schedule was out of the immediate reach of his processor right now. “No…?”

“Then—if it would not be to forward of me—I would like to contribute to you having a very late night.” His field flickered with a hint of insecurity. “There is a great deal I would like to do with you, to much for a single night. If you would be amenable, though, I would like to show you the same consideration you did me when arranging this date tonight.”

“Oh yes, please.” Swerve glanced across the bar. “I just have one suggestion.”

“And what is that?”

“It’s an awful long way to the back room.” He leaned in and bumped his forehelm against Minimus’. “I think you should frag me over the bar on the way there.”

Minimus’ grip on his legs tightened, and his optics dimmed. “That can certainly be arranged.”


End file.
